


Keeping Us Between Us

by ThexInvisiblexGirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThexInvisiblexGirl/pseuds/ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: Scully tries to convince Mulder to go to a 50s-themed dance at work.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	1. The Purple Blouse

**Author's Note:**

> I'm stretching the timeline here, so think of this piece as canon but somewhat AU – otherwise the notion of a Halloween party in the spring (I'm assuming that's when the late Season 7 takes place) becomes an X File in itself. Also let's admit it, M&S as a couple should have gotten way more screen time than it did.

She first learned of its existence when a notice landed in her work inbox. Each year on Halloween, there was a dance for the HQ employees in a fancy hotel in town, with some theme or other. It was a tradition she'd heard about since her early days in Quantico; nonetheless, those evenings had never quite held her interest. In all her years at the FBI she attended only one dance, her first year at the Academy, and even then she got bored about an hour later. Then she was assigned to the X Files and her life changed from end to end. It so happened they were always on the road around the time the dance was to take place. Several years into her assignment to the X Files she discovered Mulder was doing this on purpose – he loathed social engagements of any sort and had always done everything in his power to steer clear of them. She discovered that the hard way once, when they got stuck in a forest in North Florida on their way to a teamwork seminar, searching for Moth Men.

But this year, everything was different. She was determined to go to that dance. According to the email she received, the theme was going to be the 50s, and she absolutely loved that idea. She remembered how she and Melissa used to dress like the characters in Grease when the movie came out, reenacting scenes and songs much to their parents' dismay. Not slutty Sandy; they had never liked that plot twist. Dresses in various pastel colors with their tight waists and billowing skirts suited them just fine. They were always a few sizes too big for them, having come from goodwill stores or some relative or other, but they didn't care, spent hours flaunting them anyway.

And there was another reason she wanted to go to the dance. For the first time in she didn't know how long, she actually had a potential date for it. The trick would be how to ask him. She knew that over the years, Mulder's opinion hadn't changed, that his aversion of their peers quite possibly even intensified. But he'd made it pretty clear that there was very little he would deny her. And maybe, just maybe, if she asked nicely enough, he would relent. Either way it was worth a shot, and she enjoyed a good challenge.

And so upon receiving the email, she forwarded it to him with the word _"please?"_ in the title. She knew he had probably received a copy of his own, but knowing him, he would ignore it as soon as he saw it. An email directly from her would be harder to ignore. He wasn't due at the office until noon the following day, having been called for a consultation on a crime scene downtown, and so she had plenty of time to carefully lay out her strategy. The next morning she wore a new blouse, dark purple, the top button of which – once in the safety of their basement office – she had undone. She rolled the sleeves up her elbows, ready for battle. Luckily she had enough work to do to distract her from the mission ahead, and so she delved into her pile of field reports and forgot all about it. By the time Mulder arrived she was dizzy with information, and her shoulders were protesting against her hunched position over her desk.

"Hey, you," he said as he walked in, flashing a secret smile at her before turning to shut the door. Clearly taking advantage on her drowsy state, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before she had a chance to remind him they're at work. "Coffee?" he asked, and she suddenly noticed the two cups in a carrier he had left by the door.

"Oh my God, yes," she all but leaped out of her chair. He chuckled at her enthusiasm as he handed her one of the cups. Just the smell of it made her head spin. She closed her eyes and sniffed. "It's like you read my mind, thank you."

"Hmm... Wanna check if you can read mine?"

She opened her eyes a crack to find his suggestive smile as he inched closer. "Mulder..." she warned him, taking a step back.

"Party pooper," he scoffed, but there was this teasing glint in his eyes. "You do know most people in this building already think we're sleeping together, right? Probably since week two, when you didn't run off screaming after our first case."

"Do you include AD Skinner in _people_?" Honestly, she didn't give these matters too much thought. Being a woman in a men's world had forced her to develop a thicker skin, an immunity to gossip. But he clearly had been paying close attention to the rumor mill. She assumed he probably couldn't help it, being a profiler, an occupational hazard of sorts. She looked at him expectantly, her curiosity getting the better of her. He was grinning mischievously, which she interpreted as affirmation. "Really? How can you tell?"

"Maybe I can read his mind, too," he deadpanned. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Sometimes when we're in his office he looks at us like... he's expecting us to pounce on each other any second."

She chuckled at the mental image, but was too embarrassed to admit to him it was most likely the case, as far as she was concerned, even before _they_ happened. She cleared her throat, steering her thoughts back to the right track. "Well, be that as it may, I rather we keep us between us for the time being, okay?"

He raised his arms in mock-surrender, then turned to his desk with no further argument. That reminded her of the plan ahead; coffee and banter had her sidetracked for a second there. Returning to her seat, she sipped her coffee slowly and willed her mind into focus. From the corner of her eye she could see him unlock his computer, type in his password. She had to remain inconspicuous. She grabbed another case file from her thinning pile, but her concentration was gone. She looked down anyway, pretending to inspect it. She heard a few clicks, then a sound that was half a chuckle, half a scoff.

"What are you playing at?"

She raised her head at the question and met his gaze. "I'm sorry?"

"I wasn't born yesterday, Scully." She tilted her head in reply, pulling on her best innocent face, not wishing to give him any indication she knew what he was talking about. He rolled his eyes at her, obviously not buying it. "Your email, Scully? About the Halloween dance?" She could tell by the look on his face he knew exactly what this was about, and her cheeks flushed with wordless admission. He shook his head defiantly. "I'm not going."

"Come on, Mulder, please? Just this once would you please get over this anthrophobia of yours?"

"Not a chance in hell. Besides, what happened to keeping us between us?"

"That's different."

"Not that different."

"In the seven years we've been working together, we've always done things your way and I accepted it without question. Autopsies in the middle of the night, getting ditched repeatedly during field work, and I cannot possibly stress that enough, the Flukeman? You owe me, Mulder."

At least he had the courtesy to appear guilty. For a second, that is. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Scully. You know that. But I draw my line at work parties. They make me feel self-conscious. I don't need to give people more reasons to be talking behind my back. Don't we see the lot of them enough on a daily basis that I'm expected to socialize with them out of hours as well?"

"Actually no, Mulder, we don't see the lot of them, as we're stuck down here most of the day, or out in the field investigating one oddity or other. A tiny bit of socializing won't kill you. If anything, you'll only gain from it."

"A headache is about the only thing I could gain from it," he backfired, then shook his head a bit warily. "Look, I know what you're trying to do here."

She leaned back in her seat and sneered at him. "Are you profiling me, Agent Mulder?"

"I don't need to, I read you like a book. You wouldn't wear a blouse like that to work unless you mean to get something by it."

She kept her expression sealed, not admitting it but not denying it either. But she couldn't help asking. "Is it working?"

"You look gorgeous, and this blouse is too delicious for its own good, but I'm onto you. I won't fall for cheap ploys. Forget it. I'm not going. Case closed."

She had anticipated his fierce resistance, so she wasn't intimidated exactly. But seeing as she wasn't getting anywhere, it seemed the right time to launch Plan B. "Okay, fine," she told him. "I guess I'll call James and tell him I'm free after all," she added as an afterthought.

That got his attention alright. He froze for just a moment. "Who?" he all but growled.

"James. Agent Larson. You know, the newbie at the forensic lab. Funny guy, chocolate skin, gorgeous smile. I met him in the elevator the other day and he asked if I wanted to go to that dance with him."

He looked at her for a long moment. Familiar with his interrogation techniques, she held his gaze without faltering. Eventually he shook his head. "You're bluffing." There was the slightest quiver in his voice, a flash of doubt in his hazel eyes, both of which made his argument a little less convincing.

"You'd think I have better things to do with my time than bluff," she said in mock-offense. He kept his eyes on her as if he was expecting her to cave, but she wasn't going to. She was on a roll. "To the best of my knowledge, we never said we were exclusive," she added coolly. She could see her words stung. In fact, he looked so miserable that for a second she wanted to take it back and forget about the whole thing, but quickly decided against it. It would be worth it. "Funny. You'd believe just about anything, but not this. How about I'll give him a call right now and prove it to you?"

Her heart pounded as she reached for the phone. She hoped the rest of her plan wouldn't crumble if she actually had to call the dashing but clueless Agent Larson. Thankfully Mulder was by her side in half a second, his hand covering hers, in full-on alpha male mode. She looked up at him questionably. He narrowed his eyes at her as if he knew exactly what she was up to.

"Fine. You win. We'll do this your way." She kept looking at him, eyebrow raised. He sighed with exasperation, knowing what she'd been waiting for. "I'll go with you to the dance, goddamnit."

She struggled contain her enthusiasm, but felt it bubbling to the surface. She couldn't stop a smile from escaping. Mission accomplished. She stood up and grabbed his tie. The motion was so sudden that he lost his balance, toppled forward, and they slammed into the file cabinet behind her, moans of pain melting into breathless giggles. Catching their breaths, they gazed at one another for a second with mutual intention, the fire in his eyes a perfect reflection of the one already consuming her. As his fingers grazed the blouse button she had previously undone, she thought she should probably rebuff him, say something about prudence or decorum, but then his lips came crushing against hers and her resistance was deemed futile.

After all, nobody down there but the FBI's most unwanted.


	2. Maternal Intuition

Later that same day, still feeling euphoric and victorious, she dropped by at her mother's after work. It had been a while since her last visit – she and Mulder had been on the road quite a lot recently, and when she was in town, her mother was away visiting Bill or whatnot. She was feeling guilty for not checking in more often, living the closest amongst the Scully siblings (Lord only knew where Charles was these days), but she knew her mother wasn't one to hold a grudge.

She rang the doorbell twice and was about to turn back to her car in defeat when the door suddenly opened. Her mother was drying her hands on a dish towel. She was wearing a colorful apron over her clothes, flour dusting her hair, her cheeks flushed.

"My goodness, Dana! What a surprise!"

"Mom," she half said, half asked, at the surprise in her mother's eyes. "Is this a bad time?"

"No. No! I was just pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. Nine minutes and not a second more, you know the drill." The one which made her mother's chocolate chip cookies a success each and every time. "Come on in." She followed her mother inside, watched her as she locked the door. "Sorry for not hugging you, I don't want to get flour all over your outfit."

"It's alright, Mom," she smiled softly, her heart twitching as she looked about her. Whenever she walked through that door, she was still expecting her father to come to the foyer to greet her. She sent away the sudden pang of loss as she shed her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door.

"That's a great color on you, Dana. You should wear purple more often."

Her cheeks colored slightly as she was reminded of her initial intention in picking out the blouse, of Mulder's lusty stares throughout the rest of the afternoon. She absentmindedly touched the top button, now properly in place. "I'll keep that in mind."

If her mother had noticed her blush, she didn't comment on it. "Let's sit in the kitchen, it's warmer there. Will you have dinner with me?"

"Umm, sure, if it's not too much trouble."

"Nonsense, honey, I haven't seen you in ages. I was going to have lasagna."

Her mother's freshly baked cookies and homemade lasagna? She chose the right evening for a visit.

They settled by the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen. There were the cookies as well as banana bread cooling on the counter. She breathed in their scent as her mother put on the kettle for tea. "Gee, Mom, you've been busy," she commented smiling.

"It's for the bake sale tomorrow at church. But if you want to take some to the office I can stick a fresh batch in the oven," said her mother from over her shoulder. "I've made extra batter."

"That's okay, Mom. Don't overwork yourself."

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her, a trait she had picked up from her. "I'm sure Fox will love some cookies."

"Probably, but someone needs to be the responsible adult in the office," she replied tersely, then murmured a thank you as her mother placed the steaming mugs on the table and sat down next to her. "Have you spoken with the boys recently?"

"I spoke to Bill just the other day. I may travel over there for Christmas. You're more than welcome to tag along if it isn't too short notice for you."

"I'll get back to you about that," she promised halfheartedly, not really wishing to return to the place that was a constant reminder of the daughter she had lost too soon. As if the upcoming holiday season in itself wasn't enough of a reminder.

"And a letter from Charles arrived last week."

"I know, I got one too," she replied, smiling fondly. She wished, not for the first time, her younger brother had lived within her reach.

"How is Fox these days? It must be hard, not having his mother around."

She wasn't home for half an hour and already they were talking about Mulder. She hadn't told her mother anything about the recent shift in their relationship, didn't really find the words. She knew her mother would be absolutely thrilled if she knew, but had no idea how to bring it up. Whenever they'd spoken on the phone, she'd always feared of saying the wrong thing, the thing that would give away the secret. Besides, this was not something she wanted to do over the phone. She owed her mother more than that; they both did.

Her mother was incredible after Teena Mulder had died. She attended the funeral and pretty much helped put Mulder back together after that awful ordeal in Sacramento. She cooked for him and spoke to him on the phone at length. She had never seen anything like the connection that had been formed between Mulder and her mother over the years, but she could tell it meant a lot for both of them. Her mother needed someone to talk to following the death of her husband, and Mulder's mother was never that maternal. Harboring secrets and losing her daughter had hardened her, she supposed. And so they found solace in one another's company. She had never resented or questioned their relationship, didn't think she had a right to. It started when she was abducted, and continued to that day in earnest. With her father and both of Mulder's parents gone, her mother was the only parental figure the two of them had left.

"It's been tough, yeah. But he's alright. Healing." She sipped her tea distractedly. It was scolding hot; she pushed the mug away. Her mother noticed, and shook her head in dismay.

"And how are you, sweetheart? Is work good?"

"The usual crazy. It's good though, wouldn't trade it for anything." Feeling a goofy smile finding its way to her lips, she cleared her throat, trying to keep her partner out of her mind. "Actually, Mom, I wanted to ask you something. Are those old costumes still in the attic?"

"Old costumes? What are you on about?"

"We have this dance at work for Halloween. It's a 50s theme and I remember Missy and I had all these dresses..."

"Oh. I don't know, Dana, I guess they must be up there somewhere. We can go have a look in a bit." Her mother carefully sipped her tea, deliberating. "A dance, huh? I thought you weren't a fan of those."

"Right, but uhhh... I thought it would be a nice change."

Her mother nodded her approval. "You _should_ go out more. Put yourself out there."

"Mom, that's not..."

"None of my business, I know. I'm staying out of it."

"That's not what I was going to say. I mean I'm sort of... unavailable." Yes, that worked. Sort of. She glanced at her mother, who looked stunned, but also intrigued.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"In a manner of speaking," she replied vaguely, her cheeks burning.

Her mother observed her curiously; her open stares made her feel self-conscious. "Why so mysterious, Dana? Is it someone at work?"

She simply nodded in reply to the question, pretending to be busy with her tea mug.

"You haven't said anything. How long has this been going on?"

"A while. But, uhhh, we've known each other a long time. Several years, actually."

She dared to meet her mother's gaze. Whatever her mother had found in her eyes, her own eyes widened in shock. She was no fool; she had clearly put two and two together. "Are you trying to tell me..."

"I rather not tell you at all, to be honest, but we'd better get this over with before it gets awkward." _More_ awkward, that is. "Besides, anything is better than _I told you so_." Her mother had been not-so-secretly rooting for her and Mulder to get together, for quite some time now. Even if she'd never said it outright, it was clear enough whenever she and Mulder were in the same room together.

"Are you and Fox..."

"This is so embarrassing," she moaned, burying her face between her hands. So much for _keeping us between us_. She peeked at her mother through her hair. "I'm off the hook now, right? You obviously have it all figured out."

"Do I?"

She chuckled at the feign innocence her mother's voice carried. "Please, Mom. Your intuition will put some of our best agents to shame."

"Do you think the FBI will recruit me so late in life?"

"I can put in a good word for you," she smiled softly at the thought of her mother working in the Hoover building. Her mother smiled as if the same thought had occurred to her.

"I'm happy for you, Dana. For both of you. I think it will do you good."

"Thanks, Mom. I think so too," she shyly admitted.

"Look at you, all glowing. It's about damn time."

"Stop it, Mom," she giggled.

"I think I have every right to indulge in this piece of good news, after all these years. Can I call Fox to tell him I know?"

"Absolutely not!" she said, horrified. The mere thought of the two of them talking about her made her skin crawl.

"I'm only teasing you, honey. But it will be nice to finally have him for dinner without having to dance around this issue with the two of you. How about this Sunday?"

She all but jumped out of her seat, tea forgotten, desperate to put a stop to it. "Let's go up to find these costumes, shall we?"


	3. In His Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter took a completely different turn than the one I have initially intended. I hope you enjoy it still.

Mulder was sour-faced throughout the week, still bitter about not getting his way, but she was beginning to see through the charade. When she left the office that afternoon, he told her he would pick her up at seven, and she detected a definite glint in his eye. He couldn't fool her; he was looking forward to that evening, as was she.

She was playing some old hits to get into that 50s vibe as she was getting ready. She made sure the pleats on her gray skirt were ironed to perfection, sniggering once more at the poodle patch just above the hem. She straightened the soft pink cardigan over a white blouse with its Peter Pan collar, neatly tucked inside her skirt. Black Mary Janes, white socks and cherry-colored lipstick completed the look. Looking at her reflection as she put on her mother's pearl necklace, she was glad she'd chosen this innocent option out of the array of bolder dresses she and her mother had unearthed from the attic. There was something about the subtlety of it that made it more authentic somehow.

In the living room she picked up the framed photo from the mantle. She'd found it in the attic, in the same box with the clothes – her and Melissa sort of collapsed against one another in the middle of a wild laugh. The dresses they wore in the shot she couldn't find, wondered what on earth had happened to them, but she took the photo home with her and got it framed the following day. She smiled sadly, wishing she could share the moment with her sister, although Missy would probably not approve of her date.

The knock came on her door at seven on the dot. She took a second to get herself together, sending the memories away with a shake of her head. She smoothed her skirt, then reached for the doorknob. Her heart stilled at the sight of Mulder on her doorway. He was clad in fitted blue jeans, a tight white tee shirt, and the coolest leather jacket she'd ever seen him wear, its collar pulled up. With his hair slicked back he was hardly recognizable as her partner-turned-lover as he leaned nonchalantly against the door frame. His eyes were gleaming with mischief, widening ever so slightly as he caught sight of her outfit.

"I'm beginning to see the advantages of a 50s themed dance, I think," he said as he straightened up and brought her hand to his lips. "You look adorable."

"I'm not sure I was aiming for _adorable_ , but I'll take it," she quipped, sidling to let him in.

"Nice outfit. Second hand shop?"

"My mom's attic. Missy and me used to play dress-up a lot."

"That reminds me. I spoke to your mom last night. It was weird. I had a feeling she knows about us."

"Oh, she does," she replied casually, chuckling at the horror in his expression. "I didn't actually have to tell her anything, she sort of figured it out herself. She has a knack for these things."

"How long does she – "

"Since last week."

He seemed taken aback, slightly outraged even. "And there's a reason you failed to mention it?"

"Uhhh, I wanted to forget it ever happened?" Even now her cheeks were burning at the memory of it. She glanced at him, suddenly worried. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Of course I'm not mad. It's just..." He was somewhat pale-looking. There was real panic in his eyes. "If your mother knows, your brother probably knows."

She should have known that's what it was all about. "You never cease to surprise me, Mulder," she said, shaking her head. "You take down serial killers and psychopaths and cigarette-smoking bastards on a daily basis, yet from reason unknown you're scared shitless of my older brother who lives miles away. Do you realize how absurd it is?"

"Scully, the man has it in for me, and I can't blame him. I would have acted the same if my sister..." His voice trailed off as if he had suddenly remembered he would never get to be protective of his younger sister in a similar manner. His shoulders actually sagged with the realization of it. She grabbed his hand when she noticed the deep sadness that suddenly overshadowed the glimmer in his eyes. The wound of Samantha's fate was still too fresh. It would take some time for it to properly heal.

"I'm alright," he reassured her, squeezing her hand a little. "Let's just go."

Letting go of her hand, he began to walk towards her door. She meant to turn off her stereo and follow him, then came to a halt in the middle of the living room. The song that started playing hit her like a punch. It was as if the air was leaving her lungs all at once.

_I hear the cottonwoods whisperin' above, "Tammy ... Tammy ... Tammy's in love"..._

Maybe her own wounds still needed time to heal as well.

"Scully?"

She blinked, and her living room swam back into focus. Mulder was standing next to the door, eyeing her with concern. Suddenly overwhelmed by loss, it was a moment before she had found her voice again. "Sorry. I just... This was Missy's favorite song."

Already she was feeling her throat close off, tears burning in her eyes. She wiped them angrily, looking away from him. It hardly helped, of course. He was by her side in half a second, as she half-collapsed against his chest, crying quietly. The song was unrelenting, still playing in the background. She couldn't even bring herself to go and turn it off. Anguish was searing, paralyzing. Her only conscious thought was that it was possible they were standing at the exact spot on which her sister had died. She could feel his arms wrap around her, his hands rubbing her back, as he whispered soft comforts in her ear.

_Does my lover feel what I feel when he comes near?_

_My heart beats so joyfully, you'd think that he could hear..._

He was rocking her gently back and forth as the song played on, a slow dance of grief. She thought how broken he had seemed to her not ten minutes ago as he was reminded of his own sister's demise. How odd, and yet how incredibly appropriate, that they would have this thing in common; both of them deprived of their sisters, broken by their absence. Samantha and Melissa, both gone so young, their entire lives ahead of them, in such pointless, needless deaths. And yet through their deaths, pulled the two of them closer together somehow.

The song drew to a close, then was replaced by a more upbeat hit. It was another moment before he pulled away slightly, and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face towards him. There was unmistakable moisture around his eyes, as well. "Okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." She chuckled softly. "I don't know where that came from." She reached out to wipe a stray tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry."

"There's no statute of limitations on grieving. You shouldn't be apologizing, least of all to me. Now go get cleaned up so you could have your way with me," he added, nudging her gently.

She looked down at her outfit, the one she'd been so excited to pick out and put on, but her enthusiasm had waned completely now. She hesitated, unsure how to reveal her sudden change of heart to him. She did sort of force this evening on him, and despite his reluctance, he had obviously put an effort and played along. For her. She left his side and sat on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her. He followed, sitting next to her. She scooted closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. He took her hand in his, slowly lacing their fingers together.

"I don't want to go."

"What are you talking about? Your elaborate scheme, this outfit..."

"I don't feel like seeing other people right now."

"You won't get any arguing with me, but Scully, are you sure? You were so adamant before."

"I think I'd rather keep us between us for a little longer. As ridiculous a notion as it is to you."

"It's not ridiculous at all. I don't feel like sharing you with anyone anyway."

"Well, what else is new?" she retorted, smiling softly at him. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted us to... spend some time together like a normal couple. For a change."

He smiled so beautifully at her, it made her heart swell. "You could just tell me that, you know. Instead of selling me unfounded lies about Agent Larson." He batted his eyelashes, making her laugh. Following her outburst, it sounded strange, almost foreign. "We could still go out if you're up to it. Be that normal couple for one night."

She looked at her skirt, then up at him, giving him a look. "We look like we just time-travelled from the 50s," she pointed out.

"Oooh, time-traveling," he said sexily, eyes smoldering. "You sure know how to turn a guy on, Scully." He leaned in for a kiss, looking at her curiously as they slowly pulled away. "What was yours?"

"What?"

"You said Melissa's favorite song was _Tammy_. What was yours?"

"Oh." Her cheeks colored. "I'm not sure I want to tell you. You'll think I'm bluffing."

"I'll _know_ if you're bluffing. I read you like a book, remember?"

" _In His Kiss_ ," she admitted, thinking how apt this song had suddenly become.

His grin implied the same thought had crossed his mind. "Sounds like premonition to me. Definitely within the realm of extreme possibilities, Agent Scully."

"Great," she mock-groaned, "as if my life isn't already an ongoing, unending X File."

They shared a weary smile, and she could feel the rest of her sorrow sipping away from her. "How about we just grab a bite to eat someplace instead of the dance?" he suggested. "It's your call, Scully. Tonight we're doing things your way."

"Well, seeing as it _is_ Halloween," she replied hesitantly, "I guess it won't look all that weird to go out looking like this." She reached out to touch his cheek; he leaned his face against her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. "And afterwards... trick or treat?"

"Tough choice," he murmured, leaning closer yet again. "Although technically you've already tricked me into going to this dance. Which only leaves us with..."

"Just shut up already," she breathed, grabbing the front of his jacket to pull him towards her as she lay back on the sofa.

"Look at that," he whispered, his lips inches apart from hers. "It's like you read _my_ mind."

Her favorite song did feel like a premonition as he leaned down to kiss her.

Well, if not premonition per-se, she could definitely get a glimpse of the future. They were about to forgo dinner altogether after all.


End file.
